The Bouquet List by Barbara Deleo Page A

nothing but socks on his feet. Even though he’d been helping with the physical work all afternoon, apart from his slightly disheveled hair, he still looked as composed as ever. Her fingers itched to ruffle him, to be the one who made him lose his composure, just like he had against those rolls of fabric. Perhaps even undo his buttons and run her hands across the warm expanse of his skin before tossing his shirt to the floor.
    Paulo’s men had laid the pre-polished floor through the night and had spent the morning putting a final coat of wax on it. It had hues of honey and gold that cast a warm glow onto the walls. It was the perfect choice.
    “Wow,” she said, and the word echoed around the room, causing her to laugh. “It’s amazing.” With all the tables they’d moved out after the dinner service last night, it was light and airy.
    “What do you think?” Lane said, hands on hips.
    “It’s gorgeous.” She bent down and slid her hand across the smooth wood. “And so slippery.”
    “You can’t wear shoes on it yet, apparently. It’s bare feet or socks.”
    “How will it stand up to high heels, then?”
    “Fine,” he said, nodding. “We used a very hard wood that won’t mark at all. We just can’t put anything heavy or sharp on it for twenty-four hours because of the wax.”
    Yasmin pulled off the electric-blue wedges that had been killing her all day and sighed as her hot feet met the cool of the wood floor.
    “They’ve done a great job,” Lane said, crouching down to inspect it.
    “What do we have to do to take care of it?”
    “Not much, just a coat of polish every now and again.”
    Yasmin slid her feet along one of the boards. “Have you tried a little slide?”
    He frowned at her as if she was speaking another language. “Sorry?”
    “Before I got here,” she said patiently, “did you take a run up and skid across the floor?”
    “No.” He gave her that look he’d given her a lot in the beginning, as if she was a little bit deranged and he hadn’t been able to work out why he’d been stuck with her.
    His reaction just made her want to be fun and spontaneous all the more. She crossed her arms under her breasts. “Then I think you should.”
    “What?” He shook his head as if to rid himself of the nonsense she was talking. “Now the floor’s down we need to move quickly to cover it up so we can finish off the painting. It would have been preferable to get the floor down after we’d painted to minimize accidents, but this is a crazy schedule we’re working to.”
    “Then it’s vital that we test the skidability of the floor before we cover it all up with rugs and drop sheets. Go on, I dare you.” He was already walking over to the first wall that needed painting, the enormous mural of Santorini.
    “I’m not doing any sort of sliding.” He’d pulled a tape measure out of his suit pocket.
    “Then take your socks off.”
    He turned back and looked at her, incredulous. “Pardon?”
    She walked closer and held out her hand. “To save me going all the way back to the apartment to find some socks, just give me yours. This floor is begging to be slid on, and if you won’t do it, I’ll have to.”
    He rolled his eyes at her but she held his gaze.
    He looked down at his socks. “They probably stink after a day of work. And they’d be way too big. Your feet are all tiny and delicate. Let’s just get on with covering it up so we can start painting.”
    She lifted a shoulder and grinned. “I grew up with two brothers, remember. My sense of smell was obliterated years ago. But one thing they did teach me was how to master a perfect floor slide. And thanks, that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me about my feet. Now give me your socks.”
    …
    “You’re completely mad. You know that, don’t you?” He shook his head but bent down, put the tape measure on the floor and started to remove one of his black socks.
    Everything happened on a whim for her, and it made him